Just Another Day For You And Me In Paradise
by loosedefense
Summary: All Lois wanted for Peter to listen to what she said, and for him to stop taking her for granted. Silly, silly Lois. Peter/Lois, slight Stewie/Brian. So, basically, canon pairings.


**Author's Note:** Okay, wow. I don't know where this came from. Before you start, I have to admit that I rarely ever watch _Family Guy_ (I'm more of an _American Dad!_ kind of guy), but basically what happened was that I had a bunch of jokes that I thought up, and I didn't know what to do with them, so I thought, 'Hmm, now where can I throw in a bunch of unrelated jokes together in a coherent story and showcase it so that people will give me feedback on it. And, well, _Family Guy_ was a natural choice, given that that's what the show was even created for in the first place. :) I've done my best to stay true to the show, and I hope you like what I came up with.

**Disclaimer:** _Family Guy_ is the property of Fox and Seth McFarlane. I make no profits off this piece of fiction, and own nothing but the plot and the cutaway jokes. Oh, and the song at the end belongs to Disney.

* * *

It was a bright morning in Quahog, Rhode Island. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the flowers were blooming, and the inhabitants of 31 Spooner Street were enjoying this wonderful day with the windows closed, the blinds drawn, the air-conditioner running, and the door firmly shut. As she puttered around the kitchen, Lois Griffin was growing steadily more annoyed with her ever-present husband, Peter.

"Whatcha doin'?" Peter asked.

"I'm preparing lunch, Peter," Lois answered distractedly, rummaging through the cabinets for ingredients.

"Whatcha makin'?" Peter questioned.

"I was thinking of steaming some broccoli and cauliflower and tossing them together with some nice juicy tomatoes and some nice green lettuce," Lois enticed.

"Gross. Why are you making that? I don't want that."

"Well, Peter, you can't always get what you want. Someone has to make sure this family is eating healthy," Lois told him.

"Pork is healthy," Peter pointed out.

"It most certainly is not," Lois said severely. "For lunch, we're going to have some nice green _organically-grown_ vegetables, Peter. _That's_ healthy."

* * *

Crows circled the air over the crops in the organic farm, coming down for a landing on various spots around the area, including the fence and on the vegetables themselves.

"Gosh-dang crows," Farmer Harris snarled, stalking over with a rake to chase them away. Alarmed, the crows squawked to each other in warning, flapping their wings to take to the air. As Farmer Harris attempted to swipe at them, their fear grew, causing white droppings to splatter upon both him and his crops.

Once they had disappeared, he lay his eyes on the ruined crops, pulling a tomato from its vine to inspect the damage. There was more white on it than red. "Ehh..." he hacked a wad of spit onto its surface before proceeding to wipe it down, spreading the mess around even more completely. Oblivious, he tossed it down to the dirt, muttering "Good as new," to himself.

Not bothering to turn back, he failed to hear the flutter of wings or see the mass of black descend upon his farm once more as the crows returned to desecrate his crops further.

* * *

"Peter, for goodness sake," Lois said exasperatedly, "why don't you stop badgering me for one minute so I can get food on the table – here, lunch won't be ready for another couple of hours; it's a beautiful day out; why don't you take the kids and go out to the park?"

"The kids?" Peter cried. "Why would I mess up my Saturday with them?"

"Just go!" Lois shoved him out the kitchen.

"Couple of hours to throw together some vegetables," Peter muttered to himself. "Yeah, right." He spotted his daughter Meg in the living room entranced by the show on TV. "Whatcha watchin'?"

"Hmm?" Meg grunted. "Oh. It's a rerun of _America's Next Top Model_."

"Cool," Peter lied. "Can I sit?"

"Whatever," Meg replied without taking her eyes off the tube. Peter made himself comfortable on the other end of the couch, making sure to keep a wide berth from the girl. He didn't want to spend time with her, per se, but hopefully Lois would see them together and then he could duck out to The Drunken Clam without too much trouble. Focusing his eyes on the television, he tried to see what it was about this show that had his little girl so entranced.

"I have eight absolutely beautiful women standing in front of me," Tyra Banks was saying with a blank face, "but I only have seven pictures in my hands. And these pictures represent the four of you ... that are still in the running to be America's Next Top Model."

Peter watched with disinterest as the Amazon-like woman started to call down names. Finally there remained only two girls who were yet to be called.

"Will the two girls in front of me please step forward," Tyra Banks said quietly to the remaining two models-in-training. "Both of you are here in the bottom two for a reason. Carol-Ann, you stand here before me today because the judges found your picture to be very bland compared to the rest of the girls. And Mary, you stand here because there is something that is just so ugly and so twisted inside of you that the judges at this panel aren't sure they feel comfortable letting you out into the world representing America's Next Top Model anymore. So who goes home?"

There was a small pause before she held her breath and pulled out the last picture in her hand. "Congratulations, Mary," she said, holding it out and giving the other girl a curt nod goodbye.

"Okay, I'm outta here," Peter got to his feet.

"Peter?" Lois called from the kitchen. "Peter, are you taking the kids out to the park?"

"Oh damn," Peter muttered to himself, hastening to get away and shoving Meg discourteously in the process. He almost made it to the door when Lois appeared carrying Stewie in her arms. "Because I think it'd be a good idea for you to take Stewie along too—" she stopped abruptly when she found Meg lying in a heap on the floor and Peter attempting to tiptoe out of the house. "Peter?"

"Oh boy," Peter sighed, turning to face his wife. "This is even more awkward than the time we met Justin Timberlake."

* * *

"Hi there, I'm Justin Timberlake," Justin Timberlake introduced himself to the Griffins, who were enjoying a family outing together at the beach. The six members of the family shared uncertain looks with each other. Justin's smile faltered.

"Former lead singer of *NSYNC?"

Again, the family shared uncertain looks with one another, Meg and Brian shrugging their shoulders in response to the inquiring looks the rest gave them.

"I also collaborated with multiple artists over the years to provide them with several hit songs – such as Rihanna," Justin offered. "And I've had roles in moderately successful films such as The Love Guru."

Now the confused expressions on their faces grew even more bewildered. Justin began to shimmy his body in a few awkward dance moves.

"I'm bringing sexy back," he crooned. "I'm bringing ... you remember that?"

There was no response aside from a few nonplussed blinking from the group.

Justin sighed and hung his head in defeat. "I used to date Britney Spears?"

Dawning comprehension overtook the faces of the Griffins and they nodded and muttered amongst themselves as they recalled his face. "How's she doing?" Lois said kindly. "I'm looking forward to going to her concert."

"_I DON'T KNOW!"_ Justin hollered, his face flushing an ugly red. "I don't _know_ how she's doing!"

There was a stunned silence as the Griffins took in his heaving shoulders and clenched fists. "Well, you don't gotta be a little bitch about it," Stewie said finally.

* * *

"Peter, where are you going?" Lois questioned. "You told me you were going to take the kids out to the park!"

"Now, see, technically that's not true, Lois," Peter said. "_Technically_, _you_ told _me_ I was going to take the kids out to the park."

"Peter!" Lois snapped. "I wanted you to spend some time with the kids so that I could prepare lunch in peace. Where are you going if not the park?"

"Um ..." Peter's eyes darted about wildly as he thought up an excuse. "I was going ... to ... the ... Drunken Clam." He grinned. Then he realized what he said and rolled his eyes. "Oh man, I should have thought that one out more."

Lois threw her hands up in disgust. Stewie let out a cry of alarm as he almost fell, but managed to hold on to her grip at the last moment. "Fine, Peter, fine. Go on over to The Drunken Clam. Drink with your buddies. Eat all the pork you want. Don't bother coming home because I am not in the mood to look at your face right now."

"Oh, for—" Peter tried to call out to her retreating figure, then paused. "Fine. Go ahead. I don't wanna come back. There's more tension going on here with this screwball family than there was during that time I interned over at The Office!"

* * *

Peter stood by the wall holding a cup of coffee, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. It was his first day working at the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company, and he had no idea what he was meant to be doing. So he decided to hang around and pretend instead. Various personnel passed him by, but nobody seemed to pay him much attention. In fact, most people seemed to be caught up in their own little world.

"So, uh, how was your weekend?" one guy asked a girl dressed in a plain pink shirt with her hair tied in a frizzy ponytail.

"Oh – it ... it was ... good," the girl nodded back. Her eyes kept going back and forth, landing on one person or one thing one moment before averting her gaze for long periods of time. Peter realized she must have been autistic. Perhaps all of them were autistic. They were the most ineloquent bunch of slackweeds he'd ever seen. Even hanging around them made him feel mediocre, and for the first time, he got the impression that he was wasting his life.

"Good. Good," the first man piped up in a voice too loud. The mousy girl nodded back.

"Good," she repeated. "Good."

"Good."

There was a long, drawn-out pause interrupted only by random beeping emitted by the machines surrounding them.

"So I'm, uh," the girl said suddenly, her wide eyes catching his, "I'm going to go ... to the bathroom."

"Okay, good! Good," the man replied. The girl nodded again.

"Good," she echoed. "Good."

"Good."

There was another pregnant pause. Peter blinked. The girl suddenly launched herself to her feet and scrambled in the direction of the bathroom, but she'd moved so quickly that her legs gave out and she collapsed in a heap right in front of Peter. Blushing, she collected herself and awkwardly made for the bathroom again, stumbling once more. Did this woman not know how to wear heels? Even Peter had more grace than she did.

Peter tore his eyes away and, to his surprise, caught sight of a man with glasses and a very large forehead staring after the woman with a lecherous look on his face. Peter decided on the spot this man must have been, at the very least, a rapist. He opened his mouth to warn the first man, the one whom he'd seen strike up a conversation with the woman, of this potentially dangerous person who was eyeballing her, only to lose his words when he saw the first man doing something that was _ very_ strange indeed. He was staring out into thin air, chattering confidently to absolutely _no one_.

"So Pam and I – we're, uh, we're good," he enthused. "We're in a good place, we're really getting up on our feet and going somewhere where we, uh ... where we wanna be."

"Um, excuse me," Peter voiced, "who are you speaking to?"

The man blinked, turning to look at him. "What?"

"You're staring at nothing and having a conversation with no one," Peter pointed out. "Did you happen to forget to take your meds today or what?"

The man – Peter crossed his eyes and managed to read the plaque on his desk that with the words _Jim Halpert_ emblazoned on it – eyed him suspiciously. "I'm talking to the camera," he explained.

Peter looked around suspiciously. "What camera?"

"What are you talking about?" Jim raised his eyebrow. "The camera right over there. The one being handled by the cameraman?"

Peter's eyes darted about. He still didn't see anything. This guy was a total lunatic. He cautiously began to back away.

Jim Halpert watched him make his exit, then shook his head and turned back to the imaginary spot he was so fixated upon. "Weirdo."

* * *

Lois Griffin was furious. She was furiously putting away the dishes after having washed them. She was furiously fluffing up the pillows after having made the bed. She was furiously dusting down the furniture and giving them a thorough wiping. She was _furious_.

"Hey, Lois!" Brian said cheerfully as he bustled about the kitchen, fixing himself a drink.

"Brian," Lois seethed. "I just mopped the floor. Didn't you wipe your feet?"

Brian glanced over at the muddy footprints he had left. "Oh, I guess not. Sorry, Lois," he said.

But Lois was not in the mood for empty words. Thrusting a mop into the dog's hands, she snapped, "Well, clean it up. Now!"

Brian's eyes widened and he hurriedly dipped the appliance into a bucket of soapy water left conveniently by his side before scrubbing at the offending spot. "So ... I trust it hasn't been a very good day then?" he ventured.

"You bet it hasn't," Lois said stiffly, resuming her dusting.

Brian sighed. "Okay, what's Peter done this time?"

He thought that perhaps Lois wouldn't want to talk about it. He thought that perhaps she would calmly and rationally explain her anger away. He didn't think she would slam her hands down upon the dining table and start shaking in anger and begin shouting. Clamping his hands over his ears, Brian tried with a grimace to understand the gist of what she was saying without having his eardrums burst in the process. When Lois was done venting, he gently lowered his arms back down to his sides.

"Okay..." he said slowly, "so Peter's pissed you off – again. Like that's anything new."

"It's not just the fact that he would rather drink than spend time with the kids," Lois said mournfully. "I try so hard for him, and he doesn't even seem to appreciate it. All I wanted was some time to prepare a nice, nutritious meal for my family, and he wouldn't even give me that much. Sometimes it feels like he doesn't appreciate me at all."

"Maybe you just need to get his attention, that's all," Brian advised.

"I'm tired of being the attention-seeker in this family, Brian," Lois griped. "Even when I do it, it always backfires on me."

* * *

The monstrous steamboat let out a wail as it forged ahead through the choppy waters of the Pacific. All aboard the ship were seated comfortably inside, supping their meal and engaging in merry conversation – all except Lois. Here she was, distraught, alone, miserable on the hull of the ship gazing down upon the blue water. Her red curls drifted gently along the breeze, brushing against her pale cheek. She raised her dewy eyes up to the full moon hanging in the sky, and her pouty lips let out a melancholic sigh.

Gripping onto the rails, she hoisted herself up the rungs, one by one, clambering on to the other side, abandoning the safety of the sturdy ship to hang precariously off the edge, where the water waited to consume her. Bracing her feet, she prepared to throw herself into the abyss below.

"Don't do it."

Lois turned in alarm to find Peter standing mere feet away, watching her with wide eyes, enlarged further by his glasses.

"Stay back," she warned. "Don't come any closer."

He ignored her, taking a defiant step towards her. "Give me your hand. I'll pull you back over."

"No!" Lois's grip upon the cool railing tightened as she watched him advance in on her. "Stay where you are. I mean it – I'll let go!"

"No, you won't," Peter said confidently.

Anger flared up within Lois. "What do you mean 'I won't'? You don't know me. I most certainly _will _jump."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will!" Lois hollered.

"If you would, you would have already jumped." Peter smirked.

"I would have if you weren't distracting me," Lois retorted. "Go away."

"Sorry, I can't," Peter shook his head. "If you jump, I'll jump in after ya."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will."

"No you won't."

"Look—" Peter cut her off, "—I don't think you realize just how cold that water really is."

Lois gazed down uncertainly at the water the ship was currently cutting a swath through.

"How cold?"

"Really, really cold." Peter moved forward a couple more inches. "Like, so cold it makes your balls jump back into your body. So cold your nipples will never come back down. But trust me, as awesome as that may sound, it's not something you wanna have happen, so just give me your hand and I'll pull you back over."

Lois stared at him. "You'd really go in after me?" she asked softly.

"Sure I would," Peter replied.

"Oh, Peter!" she reached out for him, and he quickly took her into his arms. "I love you," she breathed.

"I love you too, Lois." They moved in slowly for a kiss. Lois puckered her lips in anticipation.

Her widened in horror when she felt Peter shove against her. Her arms flailed wildly as she reached out for something to hold on to, but only scrabbled for thin air as she fell backwards, off the ship and into the freezing water. She let out a terrified scream as she plunged into the murky depths below.

"Eh-heheheheheheheheheheh," Peter giggled to himself. "Boy, I really got you, Lois!" He giggled some more. "Lois?"

* * *

"So you're drowning your sorrows by cleaning up the house?" Brian questioned.

"I'm going to do more than that, Brian," Lois informed him through gritted teeth. "I am going to _decorate_ this house!" she thrust her feather duster into the air as she let out a victorious cry.

Brian stared up at her, unimpressed. "Yeah, okay – wouldn't it be better to just punish him until he begs for mercy?"

"No, Brian," Lois replied monotonously.

"You could withhold sex until he apologizes," Brian suggested. "Or you could make him hang out with your family. Or – _ooh_, I know! – why don't you make him go see a musical with you? You know how he _hates_ that stuff."

* * *

Peter shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was slumped down as far as he could go, and his eyes were halfway closed in absolute boredom. On stage a girl with green paint was singing her lungs out for all to hear, which made it that much harder for Peter to tune out her droning. Why did Lois drag him to this thing? He chanced a look over at her, sighing morosely when he found her watching the show with glimmering eyes and a captivated grin on her face. He shifted in his seat again.

Before a rapt audience, the actress began to lift herself into the air, throwing her arms out in numerous dramatic poses as she did so. Lois clapped her hands together in anticipation. Peter decided he'd had enough.

"_Tell them how I am defying gravity," _Elphaba Thropp declared down to puny guards standing beneath. _"I'm flying high, defying gravity! And soon I'll match them in renown..."_

The audience held their breath as they waited for her to deliver the final blow. Lois clapped her hands together in anticipation. Peter decided he'd had enough.

"_And nobody in all of Oz_," Elphaba recited, _"no Wizard that there is or was ..." _

"_Is ever gonna bring ..." _

"_ME—"_

"BORING!" Peter cupped his hands together in imitation of a megaphone. "Hey – hey, lady, you're _BORING_ everyone! Why don't you stop being so _BORING _for once?"

Scandalized whispers began to fill the auditorium as rows and rows of eyes searched out the offender. Lois slapped a hand to her forehead in embarrassment while Elphaba gaped in shock.

The music never came back on.

* * *

Over at The Drunken Clam, Peter sat at his usual booth chugging beer with his usual friends. "Hey, slow down there, bud," Joe Swanson warned. "It's only your third."

"Ugh, you should have seen it, Joe," Peter whined. "The things she said to me. The way everyone was there, watching my humiliation. All those dead, accusing eyes. Now I know how Obama felt when he got through the primaries."

* * *

Michelle Obama plastered a grin upon her face as she answered the door for the guest she and her husband were expecting. Congressman Ron Paul stepped through the threshold to shake her hand. "Missus Obama, how wonderful to meet you," he greeted. "I was so glad to receive the invitation from you and your husband for dinner. It's nice to be able to put all this election business aside for one night, isn't it, and get to know the person behind the campaign?"

He followed her through to the following room where Barack Obama lay in wait. "Ah, Senator!" Ron Paul stuck his hand out to shake. "So nice to finally meet—"

Obama pulled out his favored 9mm Beretta handgun out of his coat and shot the man straight in the heart. He dropped heavily onto the floor with blood seeping out the wound and staining the rug. Unperturbed, Obama stepped over the corpse and prepared a grin for the next guest.

"Senator Obama – Mitt Romney," Governor Romney stepped through next, striding confidently through the living room at Michelle's behest. "I just wanted to tell you good luck on the elections and may the best man wi—"

With a loud bang, Mitt Romney fell dead at the Senator's feet, who simply kicked him aside before stepping over his carcass while reloading the gun. Soon enough, Mike Huckabee, the candidate from Arkansas arrived, smiling sedately at the Senator.

"Senator Obama, so good to see you," he said as he laid eyes on the dark-skinned man. "It's been a solid fight, and may God bless—"

_BANG!_ Huckabee didn't even get a chance to yell in pain before his heart stopped beating through the lead bullet that pierced it. Once more, Barack Obama stepped over him, waiting for the final candidate.

"Senator Obama, hello," he greeted upon his arrival. "I'm John McCain. I don't expect you know me—"

"Oh, I know you, Senator McCain," Obama told him, reaching out to shake his hand. "I've been waiting for you. I wanted to congratulate you – I've just been informed that _you_ are the Republican candidate for the 2008 Presidential elections?"

"Really?" McCain stared in wonderment. "I hadn't heard."

"I expect you will soon," Obama flashed him a warm smile. "I expect you'll hear very soon that all the other nominees for candidacy found that they had to unexpectedly ... drop out." He stared deeply into McCain's glimmering eyes as they shook hands, the older man completely oblivious to the trail of dead bodies strewn just behind Senator Obama's back.

* * *

"Yeah, well, you can't let that get in the way of your relationship, Peter," Joe advised sagely.

"Or your drinkin'!" Quagmire added.

"Listen, Peter, you should go home and make up with Lois," Joe continued, ignoring Quagmire's input. "Stop by the flower store, buy her a bouquet, maybe some chocolates on the way, and tell her everything's going to be all right," he smiled serenely.

"Or you can sit here and get wasted until she comes lookin' for you," Quagmire proposed. "And then she'll come burstin' in here lookin' to get it bad, and throw herself at you right on this table in front of you, and _then_ you'll know everything's going to be—" he clicked his tongue and bobbed his head, "—_allllllll righhhhhht_."

"Hmm," Peter considered. "Well, if I do what Joe says, I could probably have sex with Lois right now ... on the other hand, it _has_ been a long time since we had sex on a table in The Drunken Clam..."

He buried his fingers in his hair. "Oh, but the worst thing about it was the look on little baby Stewie's face. I think that fight really got to him. I haven't seen him so freaked out since that time we tried to surprise him for his birthday."

* * *

"Okay everybody, here they come," Peter hopped excitedly from one foot to the other. "Now, remember your positions."

"Peter, I'm not so sure this is a good idea," Lois said uncertainly. "Stewie hasn't had the best experience with the Teletubbies – he might not appreciate having four giant ones standing in the living room jumping out and yelling surprise."

Indeed Peter, Lois, Chris and Meg were dressed as the famous children's characters. Peter's eyes drooped as he took in his wife encased within a yellow Teletubby suit. "Lois," he admonished with his hands on his hips, "I told you, this is the perfect getup," he gestured at the family, himself dressed in a red Teletubby costume. _"Look at this,"_ he cooed, pinching the cheek of an unamused Meg, who was dressed in green. "This is totally going to blow his mind."

"I want the Teletubbies to come to my birthday too!" their son Chris stated eagerly.

Peter flipped the lights off and quickly ducked behind the lamp. There was absolute silence throughout the house until...

The door opened and a clearly inebriated Stewie stumbled through, giggling to the companion he had by his side. "Oh, Brian," he gushed, "you sure know how to show a boy a good time. I don't – I don't think I ever expected to have such a _happy_ birthday!"

He wrapped his arms around the dog's furry shoulders. "Why don't you take me upstairs and show me my present," he hinted in a low, seductive voice, moving backwards along the carpet and tripping on his own feet to land on his backside with Brian on top. "Mmm, or maybe we could just have at it right here..." Stewie murmured.

The lights flashed on and the four remaining members of the Griffin family jumped up and yelled _"Surprise!"_

"AHHH! AAHHHHHH! _AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_" Stewie leapt to his feet in shock, backing away from the imposing figures. "I – I – I soiled myself!" he bawled. "Oh, this is the worst birthday ever! Bwa-haha-haha-haha!" he sobbed, running upstairs to the safety of his crib to bury away his humiliation.

* * *

"So you're really going through with this whole redecorating thing?" Brian questioned a couple of hours later.

"Yes," Lois said resolutely. "I have to Brian, this house is a pigsty."

"And the fact that it's been four hours since Peter left...?"

"Has nothing to do with it whatsoever," Lois finished. She placed a small round table adorned with a vase of flowers on one side of the large picture window, then scurried over to the other side to place another small round table adorned with a vase of flowers on that end as well.

"What are you doing?" Brian raised his eyebrow in confusion.

"It's called symmetry, Brian," Lois informed. "It would look stupid if there were only a table with a vase on one side of the window."

"But that's the way it's been for years," Brian reminded.

"Yes, well, that was back when I didn't have time to correct that flaw," Lois said. "Art is all about balance, Brian. You have to fill in the gaps so that it doesn't look out of place. It's why Madonna had Christina Aguilera stand onstage when she kissed Britney at the VMAs."

* * *

Christina Aguilera slinked back and forth the dirty back alley behind Radio City Music Hall. As various stars finished their rehearsals for the upcoming Video Music Awards, she lurked in the shadows, keeping her eyes out for something to pique her interest. A hobo with a lined face and scraggly white beard drifted by. His pungent odor infiltrated Christina's nostrils, and she inhaled the musk deeply. He probably hadn't had a shower in months, maybe even a year.

Perfect.

With a predatory smile gracing her lips, she strutted over to the man. "Hey, big boy," she purred. "You looking to get lucky?"

The hobo stared at her incredulously. Pivoting on one foot, she got to her hands and knees and presented herself to him. "I've been such a _dirty_ girl," she moaned. "Think you're ready for a _ride_?"

The door leading backstage to the concert hall opened and her manager peeked out. "Uh, Christina," he called, "Madonna needs someone to perform alongside her and Britney for their performance. You in?"

"Ugh," Christina heaved a weary sigh as the homeless man unzipped and clambered on. "I'm kinda busy here."

"Well, okay," her manager drew back, "but I think it would be a really good experience for you."

"What's in it for me?" Christina inquired in response.

"Well ..." her manager drawled, "you get to kiss a girl."

"Mmmmmm," Christina's eyes lit up at the prospect. Turning to look over her shoulder where the hobo was thrusting vehemently in and out of her, she snapped, "Are you still here?"

* * *

"LOIS!" Stewie's holler preceded him as he marched into the living room. "How many times do I have to tell you not to rearrange my things when I'm not in the room? I spent all afternoon searching for Rupert, you damn whore, and where did I find him? Tucked away by a pile of blocks in the corner of the room? Exactly – exactly _what_ is wrong with you, you hideous shrew, can you answer me that, _hmm_? I should teach you a bloody lesson you won't soon forget—"

"Er, kid," Brian rushed to usher the infant out of the room. "Listen, your mom's having a pretty rough go of it right now, I don't think it's the best time to bring up trivial things like this..."

"I say, _who the deuce_ are you to tell me what is trivial or not to Lois?" Stewie's eyes burned with a rage of a brewing tantrum. "I'll bring up anything I damn well please, and I'll thank you to keep your wet nose out of it—"

"Listen, twerp," Brian said sternly, "Lois is having a really tough time with Peter right now, so why don't you keep your damn problems to yourself?"

"Oh, _that's_ new," Stewie retorted. "Why, that's so bloody original I'm on my way now to tell R.L. Stine to put it down in his latest manuscript."

* * *

"_Why, this camera takes pictures of the future!"_ the character on television realized in horror.

R.L. Stine paused the video playing on television and turned to his camera, tapping away at the keys furiously.

"_Why, this camera must take pictures of the future!" Greg realized in horror._

R.L. Stine swivelled his chair away from the computer and returned his attention to the television next to him. He picked up the remote and pressed Play.

"_Bullshit, Chester ... there's no way!"_ the female lead sneered.

The images on the television screen froze once again and R.L. Stine turned back to the computer.

"_Jeepers, Greg ... there's no way!" the girl sneered._

Quickly, Stine darted back to the television and continued playing the video. An image of Rod Serling appeared onscreen.

"_Object known as a camera,"_ the man narrated in a solemn voice. _"Vintage uncertain, origin unknown. But for the greedy, the avaricious, the fleet of foot who can run a four-minute mile so long as they're chasing a fast buck, it makes believe that it's an ally, but it isn't at all. It's a beckoning come-on for a quick walk around the block ... in the Twilight Zone."_

R.L. Stine paused the video and turned back to the computer, his expression troubled. How would he be able to translate Serling's closing narration to fit with his story? Tapping at his chin for a few moments, his expression brightened as a flash of brilliance struck him, and he hunched over the keyboard to resume typing.

"_Jeepers, Greg – I've got goosebumps!"_

* * *

"Well, whatever the case, I'm sure that bitch deserves it," Stewie said heatedly. "If they divorce, maybe Peter will finally get me the kind of mother I actually deserve. Like Angelina Jolie. Or Sandra Bullock. Or Jamie Spears and his team of court-approved conservators."

* * *

Britney Spears gazed tenderly at the two little boys running around the isolated room about her. The road here had not been easy, and there was still a ways to go, but she had fought for everything she had, and she had clawed her way back into the lives of her little boys. Her heart felt so full. This was everything she ever wanted.

The steel door that barred them from the outside world was kicked inwards and a team of men dressed in black wearing dark sunglasses and wielding heavy artillery surrounded them. "Move in! Move in!" barked one into a walkie-talkie. "Alright, Miss Spears, you had your time. Give us the kids."

"No, wait!" Panic rose up within Britney like bile. "Five more minutes, please! Just give me five more minutes and then you can take them—!"

"That wasn't the deal," the man sneered. "Get them!" The men located around the room began to close in on them. Terrified, Britney gathered her frightened children into her arms. "Code red. Code red," the first man reported into the walkie-talkie. "Give us the children, Miss Spears."

"No!" Britney cried out. "No, I'm tired of this. You can't take away my kids again."

The man raised his gun and fired a warning shot into the air. Britney's arms flew to muffle her children's cries.

"I'm warning you, Miss Spears," he declared. "We are authorized to shoot to kill." He drew out another shot, then aimed the gun at the three of them.

"No!" Britney sobbed. "Alright – take them ... just don't hurt my babies."

Hands wrestled the toddlers out of her arms. "Mommy!" one called out in alarm. "I wanna go to Mommy!"

Tears streamed out of Britney's eyes as she was forced to her feet by the brutal men that surrounded her. "Don't hurt my babies," she called out. "Don't hurt my babies."

"Sedate her!" the first man snarled. Hands once again reached for her, pushing her head to one side and exposing her neck in the process. A syringe filled with an ominous-looking green liquid sank into her flesh, emptying its contents into her veins.

"Not my babies." Britney's arms went slack, and her eyes fluttered shut. "Not my babies ..."

The agents lay her spread out on the floor of the barren room as Jamie Spears was escorted in. "Gave us a bit of trouble today, sir," the first man reported. "But don't worry. We got her."

Jamie nodded, not taking his eyes off his daughter. "Good work, gentlemen," he said. "You may leave now. Thank you."

"A pleasure, sir," the man responded with a vindictive laugh. The agents filed out of the room, leaving the middle-aged man alone with the mother of two. Shadows played across Jamie's face as the door closed behind them. "Oh baby, baby," he murmured to himself, a twisted parody of one of the girl's famous catchphrases. He reached down to fondle himself through his trousers.

Then, drinking in the sight of his daughter's unconscious form, Jamie Spears began to strip.

* * *

"Yes, yes, alright thank you." Brian hung up the phone and twisted his mouth into a worried line.

"What's wrong, dog?" Stewie grunted, not taking his eyes off the TV.

"That was Joe," Brian said tonelessly. "He said Peter left The Drunken Clam hours ago. I knew even he couldn't spend all this time drinking ... where do you suppose he is?"

"Oh, well why don't you go out and look for him?" Stewie changed the channel on the remote.

"Why don't you come with me?" Brian shot back.

"I would, Brian," Stewie replied in a put-upon voice, "but I'm really busy watching this trailer for an upcoming movie right now. Also, I don't care."

"That's not going to be good," Brian nodded at the television. Stewie scoffed.

"How do you know?"

"I have a sixth sense about these things," Brian shrugged. "Don't ask me to explain it."

"_From the makers who brought you _Dracula Knows What You Did Last Summer_, and _Titanic the Sequel: Jack Is Back_ – prepare for the ultimate thrill of a lifetime with _Frankenstein 2: Oops, I Did It Again!" the TV blared.

Brian jumped to his feet. "That's it, I can't take the tension – I'm going to go find him."

"Brian, wait," Stewie sighed. "That would be taking the easy way out. You gotta let these things play out for themselves. Trust me, I know. Shortcuts never work. It's always got to be done the hard way."

* * *

"Look, all I'm saying is, if Gandalf has these great big giant eagles at his disposal, then why don't we just use them to _fly_ over to Mordor and drop the Ring into the volcano?" Stewie explained patiently to all those gathered round the Council of Elrond. "Don't you think that makes much more sense than nominating a small group of people to save the world from utter doom? Hmm? Don't you think it's a little bit _insane_? Hmm? Especially to leave the guy _holding_ the ring under the protection of Ian McKellen," he nodded over to Gandalf the Grey; "a fairy," to Legolas; "a bear," to Gimli; "a boy-hungry pedophile," to Boromir; "and," he gestured to Aragon, "a dirty, unkempt mountain ranger who probably gets off on sniffing his own dick-cheese?"

A murmur of discontent rippled through the crowd gathered. Gandalf got to his feet and stamped the end of his staff upon the tiled floor. "Now see here!" he bellowed, "I _refuse_ to stand by and listen to the uncouth rantings of this miserable_ fool of a Took!_"

"Sorry, sorry," Stewie gestured for everyone to calm down. "My bad. I meant to say, don't you think it's a little bit insane to leave the guy holding the ring under the protection of _Sir_ Ian McKellen, a fairy, a bear, a boy-hungry pedophile and a dirty, unkempt mountain ranger who probably gets off on sniffing his own dick-cheese? Hmmm?"

* * *

"Yeah, well, say what you want, Stewie," Brian threw on a jacket, "I'm gonna find Peter and set things right." He ran to the front door and threw it open, only to be slammed down on to the floor by a giant rug that flew by in mid-air. "What the..." he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Peter?"

"Oh, thanks Brian," Peter said gratefully. "This stupid thing can do everything except open the door."

"What – is that a ... flying carpet?" Brian asked in disbelief. Peter was indeed hovering on top of what looked like a gigantic Persian rug. "Where on earth did you get such a thing?"

"Oh, I ran into a guy," Peter said mysteriously. "And flying's not the only thing it does either – look..."

The edges of the floating rug straightened out so that they were rigid and pointing straight at Brian. Seemingly out of nowhere laser beams fired out of the carpet. With a yelp, Brian ducked his head just in time to feel a laser beam singe the tips of the fur on his back and blacken the wall behind him.

"Peter, what the hell!" he yelled out.

"Oh, I say, that's _brilliant_," Stewie chuckled from the sofa. "Is it a patented prototype? Do you suppose I could borrow it to – AAHHHH!" he ducked just in time as a laser beam shot out to obliterate the television.

"Peter, where did you get this?" Brian reiterated his earlier question.

"Well, Brian," Peter recalled, "after I left The Drunken Clam, I was feeling pretty down, so I went for a short walk and I ran into Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster – you know, the guys who created Superman?"

* * *

Stan Lee sat primly at the table staring down his opponents. He took in their cocky smirks, and confident poses, and narrowed his eyes at them. Gripping the stacks of papers before him tightly in his hands, he said, "This here's The Incredible Hulk," he bragged. "He's got superstrength."

Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel shared a look with one another. "Yeah, our superhero can do that." Siegel said casually.

Stan Lee frowned and flipped over to another page. "Well, this here's The Human Torch," he said. "He can fly."

"Yeah, our hero can do that too," Joe Shuster told him.

"Oh yeah?" Stan Lee retorted. "Well, the Human Torch can set your superhero on fire and watch him die."

"Nah," Siegel replied casually. "Our superhero's invincible."

"Well, here's Captain America," Stan Lee raised a sketch of the superhero in question. "He's really, really fast and stuff, and he's got endurance to boot."

"Yeah, our superhero can do that."

"And here's the Invisible Woman," Stan Lee snapped. "She can turn invisible and kick your superhero's ass."

"No way," Shuster said. "Our superhero has X-ray vision."

"X-ray vision won't help you see someone who's invisible, dumbass," Stan Lee retorted.

"He's got heat vision too," Jerry Siegel added. "So he'll see her coming."

Stan Lee slammed a fist down upon the table. "That's not fair!" he yelled. The other two men merely shrugged. "What's this name of your so-called superhero, anyway?"

"Um," Siegel's eyes darted from one side to the other as he thought. "Superman."

* * *

"So anyway," Peter continued, "I told them my problem and they sympathized, so they designed me this!"

"But Peter," Brian said warily, "Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster are dead."

"No they aren't," Peter said quickly. "Now, if you'll excuse me Brian, I have got a wife to impress." And he took off up the stairs where Lois was waiting.

"Lois! Oh, Lois!" Peter called out, knocking over family photographs and various other bits of furniture as he went. "Look what I got," he sang.

"Wha—Peter! What is that?" Lois scrambled up against the headboard and drew her legs towards her body in attempt to get away from the giant monstrosity Peter was crouched upon.

"It's a magic carpet!" Peter exclaimed proudly.

"It's very ..." Lois's hand extended carefully to stroke the fibers, "something."

"Do ya ... wanna go for a ride?" Peter tilted his head invitingly.

"Oh, I shouldn't," Lois stammered.

"Come _onnnnn_," Peter jostled with a grin. "You _know_ you want to."

"I ... oh ... what the hell!" Lois gave in. She held her hand out for Peter to take and he hoisted her on to the carpet's surprisingly sturdy surface. The two of them giggled in merriment. The carpet swerved around and took off, knocking over one of the small tables and with the vase of flowers on top as it went.

"Bye kids," Lois called over her shoulder. "Dinner's in the freezer!" And then they were off.

The cool night air whipped against their faces as they rose higher and higher, until all they could see were the stars. Peter turned to Lois and took her hand in his considerably meatier palm.

"I can show you the world," he serenaded. "Shining, shimmering, splendid. Tell me, Lois, now when did you last let your heart decide?" He reached out as the carpet dipped downwards to pick a flower, but held on too long and ripped out a whole bunch of them still with soil clumped together amongst the stalks. Handing the earthy mess over to her, he gestured outwards with an open palm.

"I can open your eyes," he declared. "Take you wonder by wonder," he waved to the monument of the Rhode Island State House glittering against the skyline, "over sideways and under on a magic carpet ride – a whole new world," they rose up amongst the clouds once more, "a new fantastic point of view; no one to tell us no or where to go," he stuck his finger out to the landscape of Rhode Island as they left it behind, "or say we're only dreaming."

"A whole new world," Lois chanted along, feeling the emotion rise up inside her as well. "A dazzling place I never knew," she drew her hands away from her husband's to take the lead, "but when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear," she clapped on to a puffy cloud within her hands and held it close to her before turning to stare at Peter, "that now I'm in a whole new world with you."

"Now I'm in a whole new world—" Peter started to sing, but Lois was not done, so she cut him off.

"Unbelievable sights," she cried. "Indescribable feelings! Soaring—" the carpet bucked, attempting to throw them off so that it could get free, but the two Griffins aimed their bodies so that they soundly fell back on to its form, then hung on tight so that it would not try again, "tumbling, careening through an endless diamond sky – a whole new world!"

"Don't you dare close your eyes," Peter admonished as the carpet shot downwards on the river in order to scare them. Lois felt the bottom of her stomach disappear, but kept on, "A hundred thousand things to see—"

"Hold your breath!" Peter shouted suddenly as the carpet delved underwater. Gasping a lungful of air to tide them over, Peter and Lois held on. The carpet was sinking, sinking – it was starting to realize that, along with the weight of its two passengers, the added pressure of the water was more damaging to it than it was to them, so it started to make its way up again. As they broke the surface, Lois instantly resumed her domination over the song.

"I'm like a shooting star," she sputtered, wiping the beads of water off her face and shaking her head so that they jumped out of her hair, "I've come so far; I can't go back to where I used to be," she implored to Peter, signalling how much she detested it when he took her for granted.

In response he carded his fingers through hers and smiled benevolently. "A whole new world..." he started.

"Every turn a surprise," Lois sang over him. Peter sighed. Fine. If it was a competition Lois wanted, it was a competition she was going to get.

"With new horizons to pursue," he wailed loudly.

"Every moment gets better," Lois raised her pitch in effort to drown him out.

"I'll chase them anywhere," they turned fierce eyes upon one another, each struggling to be the dominant one, "there's time to spare – _let me share this whole new world with you_..."

Together they rose, wobbling to stand up on the carpet as it drifted high over the body of the Pacific Ocean.

"A whole new world..."

"A whole new world..."

"That's where we'll be..." Peter sang louder.

"That's where we'll be..." Lois grew ever more shrill.

"A thrilling chase..."

"A wondrous place..."

"For you and me..." Amazingly, they managed to find an agreeable pitch and finished the song off together. Peter drew Lois close.

"Oh, Peter," she sighed in his arms, "I love you."

"I love you too, Lois." They moved in slowly for a kiss. Lois puckered her lips in anticipation.

Her widened in horror when she felt Peter shove against her. Her arms flailed wildly as she reached out for something to hold on to, but only scrabbled for thin air as she fell backwards, off the carpet and into the freezing water. She let out a terrified scream as she plunged into the murky depths below.

"Eh-heheheheheheheheheheh," Peter giggled to himself. "Boy, I really got you, Lois!" He giggled some more. "Lois?"

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note: **Well, I hope you managed to read all the way through this monstrosity. Please let me know what you think. I don't watch the show often, so I hope I did the characters justice. This fic focuses more on Peter and Lois than any other character, because I don't really know how to give voice to Meg and Chris, but I hope I did alright with Stewie and Brian. Like I said, I'm not much into this show, but I must admit, writing a fic for it presented a challenge I have never before experienced in all my years writing. Anyway, I'm waiting eagerly for your reviews!


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